The Round Robin
by Thea-Zara
Summary: Inspire Daria fanfic writers, give them enough rope to hang themselfs or Daria, and sit back to enjoy the fun.
1. Default Chapter

****

I decided to try experiments with my writing. I tried different things from poetry to co-operative writing. However, getting together with others and agreeing on a set story course was too close to the way I normally write to feel different (damn split personalities ^_^), and poetry comes to me only occasionally when my muse decides I need a bop on the head to clear out the clutter. There is a big difference when writing in a round robin forum. In a co-written story you haggle things out, brainstorm together, agree on a course, and then write your tale, but I wanted to see if a different strategy would work. People adding to the story in a round robin had no clue where it would finally lead and no control about what came next other than to write it. I decided to give it a chance. I have seen round robin stories attempted and more often than not they lose momentum because no one has been inspired. The way I set it up there was no set plot to follow. I was hoping this would keep the muses on active duty. 

I started it on the Paperpusher's Message Board fan fiction forum as well as the Daria Punks. I got spectacular, and spectacularly different, results. The ppmb posts slowly became three different tales, while the DP one became a psychedelic crossover mad fevered dream. They were wonderful, each in their own way. I plan on posting them all eventually but decided to start with the ones from the ppmb. 

This was my challenge: My warped little brain has devised a plan. I challenge those among you who take quill to paper to the following: Take this scene and run with it. Each new poster adding to the tale until it has grown too large and homicidal for us to control properly. It is of course to be a Dariaverse sort of tale but characters, Mary Sues, crossovers, and bizarro-land plots are entirely up to each poster. If someone has responded, take up where they left off. Try and follow the basic rules of grammar and spelling for the plain fact that it annoys the hell out of most people to see a story written that is a walking talking grammar don't. I beg of you though, please no damn complaining when someone mixes up to too two, or spells a couple words wrong. At least they have taken the time to try and that is all I care about at this point. 

This story is in need of more writers. If you feel inspired by this and want to take up and write some to it you can find an ongoing copy at the ppmb - http://paperpusher.simplenet.com/bforum.mv in the fan fiction forum. You can also simply e-mail me at thea_zara@yahoo.com or look for it at www.xanga.com/shadowself 


	2. Daria and the Basement of Doom

****

Daria

in

Round Robin hell

(Thea_zara)

The first thought that ran through her head was, 'Why the hell am I on the floor?' She ran through the afternoon and could find no good reason to be cheek to concrete. She looked around her and realized she was in Jane's basement. The various abandoned canvases and the bands broken amp helped her differentiate from any other average basement. Lying beside her was a spilled can of green paint the exact shade of her coat. That did the trick, why she was down here came back to her suddenly. Jane was doing a painting. 'Big surprise there', she thought, her trademark smirk playing across her face. Jane had asked her to get the paint because she was going to paint a Morgendorffer family portrait, and perish the thought that she not get Daria's favorite jacket exactly right. 

She climbed to her feet, and looked around for something to clean up the mess she had made with the paint. She grabbed an old rag from atop a canvas and started wiping. After she finished cleaning up most of the mess she turned to lay the rag down and screamed. The canvas she had uncovered was nothing short of breathtaking. It had to be Jane's best work ever, but the fact that it had been down here hidden was perfectly explainable once you took in the subject matter. Trent was playing his guitar on a stage, a spotlight illuminating his features as well as blocking his sights. Below him in the painting was Daria, staring up at him, a look of awe and love shining on her face. She looked more open than she had ever dared be in real life, and the emotions she had felt for Trent were clearly painted into every line of her face. The implications of the painting were not lost on Daria and she could only hope Jane had never showed this to Trent. No matter how oblivious he had been this painting showed how she had felt and only an idiot would miss its implications. 

She didn't worship at the church of crush anymore, and Trent was her friend. If he ever saw this things could get decidedly weird between them. She would have to make sure he had never seen it. She looked around for another cloth to place over it and then moved to leave the basement intent on having a little talk with Jane. As she left she noticed just how she had ended up on the floor. The third step down had cracked through and she suddenly remembered flying backwards and hitting the concrete. 

(wouter)

"Luckily us Morgendorffers come equipped with hard heads." Daria smiled grimly while checking her head for lumps, one could never be to sure. 

Muffled sounds were coming from behind the door of the basement, Daria looked up and tried to focus on what was said, she vaguely recognized Jane's voice but it was too far away to make out exactly what she was saying. Daria carefully scaled the rest of the stairs until reaching the door and automatically reaching for the lever, only to find it missing.

As if a tape was rewound to what happened previously, Daria suddenly recalled grabbing something while falling down, slowly becoming aware of an object in her left hand. Daria raised her hand and opened it up revealing the lever, which had snapped off because of the stress the sudden yank built onto it.

Great, just great, locked in and no way to make it known, what would it take to make it clear to the inhabitants of the Lane household that there was a guest in distress? She could try shouting, no the emergency wasn't severe enough for her to actually raise her voice. First god created light, as so the bible said, Daria smiled grimly at the thought while reaching for the light switch and illuminating the place. Know your surroundings and know the way to use them to your advantage.

Two or three electric guitars became visible along with parts of a disassembled drum kit; this was the place where Mystic Spiral made their fools gold record. The whole place had an aura of unemployed men; empty beer cans on top of the discarded amplifier stood as silent witnesses of the many rehearsals that took place here.

Daria's glance fell on one particular guitar, shaped a bit like a capital K, red and white in color, it was the guitar Trent played on one of the first times she was over at the Lane household. Daria lifted it up and wiped the dust from it, like the crush she used to have on its owner, it had been gathering dust.

The strings felt rusty, obviously this guitar hadn't been played for a very long time. Daria grimaced at the memory of how the whole house was shaken on its foundation when this guitar, in the hands of its owner, raised its voice.

All of a sudden it struck Daria, this guitar would raise its voice for her, making it clear for Jane that something was going on in the basement. Daria's hands strummed the strings a bit shakily; she never had a guitar in her hands before. It didn't matter, as long at it made a sound loud enough to make her heard.

Daria looked at the amplifier, the cloth protecting the speakers was torn and it showed a big crack in the back, would it work? After finding a cable and plugging the guitar in, Daria decided to take the big step and switching the amp on, if it were really broken, then the fuses would blow and if it worked, that would be good too.

Click

The power indicator light of the amp turned bright red and a soft hiss was heard after the amplifier came to life again. Daria cranked the volume control and gave the guitar a strum...

Nothing, no sound at all, Daria checked and double-checked the amp, it should work and then she noticed that the guitar itself had rotary knobs as well. Daria cranked them and....

*WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGGGGGG*

The feedback was deafening; Daria bolted up and in a reflex toppled the amplifier over making it short circuit and blowing the fuses of the house.

After the feeling returned into her body Daria sighed, no way that that would go unnoticed...

(Thea_zara)

Elsewhere in the house...

Jane was growing impatient. She had sent Daria after that paint twenty minutes ago, and still no sign of her. She went down stairs and was heading toward the basement door when Trent came ambling into the room from the kitchen.

"Hey Janey. Where are ya heading?"

"I sent Daria to the basement for paint and she hasn't come back yet. I was about to go check on her."

Trent began looking slightly green around the edges. "Daria's by herself in the basement?"

Jane looked at him slightly confused, "Didn't I just say that. What you think she led a guided tour down there or something? Sheesh Trent, what the hell's wrong with you? It's Daria. It's not like she's gonna take off with your bits of broken instruments and run to Paraguay with the money she makes selling them on E-Bay."

Trent, while still looking upset, cracks a smile at the thought. "Course not, I trust Daria. There are just projects down there I don't want people to see, you know, just yet."

Jane looked at her brother carefully, wondering just what in the hell he's talking about this time. "Trent I'm sure Daria isn't down there reading any of your lyrics." 

At that Trent opened his mouth to speak when the whole house shook with noise. The vibrations rattled pictures on the wall, then suddenly the lights shut off and the noise faded out. 

Jane looked sheepishly at her brother. "Ok maybe she did read some of your music. Get me the flashlight out of the kitchen drawer Trent. I'm gonna go check on our little Hendrix... Just as soon as I can see my way to the basement door."

Trent looked as if he wanted to say more but then turned and headed towards the kitchen. 

(Wouter)

"Hey Daria, you in there?" Jane's voice called out from the other side of the door. A rhetorical question, no doubt, Jane knew that Daria was in there, she just made it very clear she was there.

"Just open the damn door and let me out Jane!" Came the annoyed reply. "You guys could've told me about that broken stairway sooner."

Jane reached for lever only finding it lying on the ground, no wonder that Daria didn't return, she must've grabbed onto the lever and broke it off when falling down. The door was solid; this would require serious strength to break open.

From the other end of the door Daria heard how Jane tried to open the door but her tries were in vain, but then came another sound, somebody joined Jane at the other side of the door.

"Daria, listen carefully, go to the amplifier and unplug it." Came Trent's voice. "I have just replaced the blown fuses but it will short-circuit all over again when the amplifier is still plugged in."

"Got it." Daria nodded and carefully making her way to the amplifier, finding the chord with which it was connected to the power and unplugging it. "Okay, you can put the power back on."

Daria heard how Trent ran away from the door and only a few seconds later the lights came back on. Daria blinked a few times adjusting to the light again and then her gaze fell on something that came from the amplifier when she toppled it over, Daria bowed down and picked it up, a picture.

"On your marks, get set, go!" Trent roared while kicking the door down. "Daria, are you okay? ...What...is that... you didn't actually find...?"

Daria turned to Jane and Trent with a Deer-In-The-headlights look. The painting was understandable, it just revealed openly what Jane saw from the first time that Daria met her brother but this was something totally different.

"Trent, how could you..." Daria whimpered, shaking, while holding the very revealing picture.

(Thea_zara)

Daria held out the newly found painting. It was another of her and Trent, this time she is standing and looking at the viewer with one arm raised and her glasses gone. She covered by a stretch of material wrapping her body lightly from one raised shoulder, across her chest, around her back, back around one hip and trailing out behind her as if in the wind. Trent is kneeling beside her on one knee head bowed as if in awe of her. He is dressed as a roman soldier. In the background of the piece you see what looks to be the remaining members of Mystic Spiral, also dressed as soldiers standing in chariots. The painting is again one of the better ones she has ever seen of Jane's works. The skill of the artist would not however save either of the Lane's standing in front of Daria from her wrath in this moment.

"How the Hell could either of you do this to me? Damnit Jane, I trusted you!" She spit out with venom and hurt, before again turning onto Trent. "And I suppose this was some sort of game for you as well? Show me off like that to the guys, making me into a joke for your friends? To hell with the both of you!" She burst into a run, all semblance of her impenetrable hardness gone, just wanting to be as far from Jane and Trent as possible.

Trent and Jane both had the same expression on their faces, mouth hanging open, looking as if they were trying desperately to speak but had forgetting how. Finally Jane managed to get out a sentence. "B-bu-but I didn't paint that." She stared at it in amazement wondering were in the hell it had come from when Trent managed to find his voice, "I did Janey."

This confession on top of everything was the last straw and Jane simply dropped, luckily she was in front of the old couch Trent kept down here for when the band was hanging out, and she managed to fall down onto it. She reverted to a state of shock; looking for all the world like a giant Jane shaped goldfish. Her mouth working to form words and failing miserably. 

Trent watched her a moment then moved to the small fridge he kept down here, pulled out a cola, opened it, and handed it to Jane. He figured the caffeine would at the least help her speak again. She took the can and downed it in three quick drinks. She stopped trying to speak and simply stared at her brother for a few moments then finally, "When the hell did you decide to take up painting, and why did you paint that picture of Daria?"

Trent looked at the painting for what seemed like a long time then he turned to Jane and started speaking. "After I broke up with Monique for good I started having these weird dreams. I mean they weren't bad dreams or anything, just weird. I found myself in different places and the only thing that was always the same was that Daria was there with me. I mean sometimes the spiral was there, and most of the time you were, but Daria was always there. I really liked them Janey, but I started sleeping even more than normal, missing more practices than ever, and even a couple gigs. I even flaked out on that project you and Daria wanted help with cause I was sleeping, hoping I'd have one of the dreams. I figured that if I got it out of my system somehow then I wouldn't sleep so damned much waiting to have one. I tried to write it out to create lyrics, but you've seen how that turned out. I couldn't even begin to describe these dreams and how they make me feel Janey. I asked you what you do if you can't sculpt or paint out what you feel, remember?" Jane nods drawn into what Trent is saying. He smiled at her and looked back at the canvas a moment before going on. "You told me if one medium doesn't work that you move on to another till you find one that helps you express yourself. So I tried another medium. I thought about it and they say a picture is worth a thousand words so I just started painting. It took me awhile to get the hang of it, luckily you were off with Tom so much you didn't notice me running around the house trying to find your turpentine stash with paint all over me." Jane managed to crack a smile at the image before he went on. "I painted and painted, what I felt, what I saw, what I thought while I dreamed. When mom called I told her I was trying to understand my dream state and asked if I could use one of the blank checks for supplies. I replaced what I had used of yours and bought my own paints and canvases. Finally things started easing up. I still have the dreams, and I still love how they feel, but I also love waking up to paint them. Janey I never showed anyone my paintings, are they really so bad that Daria would be that mad at me?" 

Jane looked at her brother shocked at how he could amaze her with how deep he was becoming then revert to Bobo the oblivious boy the next. "Trent, Daria wasn't upset cause the painting was bad. In fact it is really good, better than most of mine. She thought we were making fun of her."

Trent now gaped at her, "Why would we make fun of her?"

Now at this point the three threads take drastically different paths. For now you simply continue reading what came to be called Thread Three: Daria & Melody, but in the future I hope to be able to offer you the various story line choices. 


	3. Daria & Melody

****

{Lawndale Stalker}

"Ready, guys?" Jane asked. "Yeah!", "Woohooo!", and "Come on, Janey, show us!" Were among the more articulate replies she received. Grinning, she whipped the drapery off her latest painting. Trent and the rest of Mystic Spiral devoured the image with hungry eyes. 

The band was on the stage of some finer venue than they'd ever actually played, resplendent in professionally tailored costumes, wielding fine new instruments that gleamed in the multi-hued stage lighting. Among the adoring crowd, their faces lit by the band's reflected glory, Daria's head and torso stood out apparently lifted up by others. An expression of bliss on her tear-streaked face, big round black-framed glasses askew, mouth open wide, she was lifting her Raw Sienna pullover shirt to expose her tiny chest to the band.

The unveiling was greeted with a mixture of shouts of approval at their own images and guffaws and hoots of derision at the representation of Daria. "Hey, looky there, she's got titties!" "Haw haw, toldja she wasn't totally flat!", and "Janey, aren't you exaggerating a little there?" Were the kindest of the ribaldries regarding her likeness. 

"So I was being generous. After all, she is my 'best friend'." Jane smirked, making quote fingers in the air around "best friend". This brought another round of raucous laughter.

After a minute, Trent raised his hands. "All right, guys, we came here to practice. Let's hit some licks and get good enough to play in a place like that for real."

"And attract groupies with bigger boobies!" Shouted Max, triggering more coarse laughter. Trent reached down and turned his newly repaired amp on.

Casa Lane erupted in a huge fireball. Blazing turpentine cans traced fiery arcs across the night sky. Canvases flew everywhere like flaming Frisbees. Jagged pottery shards buzzed though the air like killer bees, to clatter off houses and cars for blocks around. 

Melody Powers watched the ascending fireball until it went dark somewhere above two hundred feet altitude. "Tch, tch, tch. Thoughtless and hazardous use of art materials, definitely." Sliding behind the wheel of her black Viper, she started the mighty engine as quietly as possible and pulled away down the dark street, what noise she made covered by the timid barking of shell-shocked neighborhood dogs.

Daria stared at her monitor screen, rereading what she had written. It didn't really help. Her evil smirk dissolved into an angry scowl, the scowl faded into a look of sadness verging on tears. How could Jane do that to her? She couldn't possibly have hoped to hide those paintings from Trent in the basement. She'd thought Jane was her friend. Obviously, she'd been wrong.

With a bit of returning anger, she shut the computer down, then turned out the room light. Walking through the sudden darkness with the ease of familiarity, Daria entered her closet and shut the door.

(Thea_zara)

Once she had the closet door locked, she switched on a light and removed the small locked case from the false panel she had installed herself. She looked over the contents of the box and her scowling face smoothed out into a look of complete serenity. To hell with Jane and Trent. Who the hell needed them any damned way? She had gotten through most of her life without ever seeing a Lane and she knew if need be she could go the rest of her life with out one as well. Perhaps she should really send in Melody. Give them a little payback for the humiliation they had apparently been heaping on her for god knows how long. They weren't worth Melody's time, besides she had a mission to complete already. 

She slipped on a vest and her standard issue side arm, then pocketed her ID card. Who needs the damned Lane's? It was a pain trying to get around Jane when she had an assignment anyway, so this worked out better in the long run. She shut the light out and slipped her state of the art cell phone into her pocket, checking to make sure it was on vibrate as she did. She moved to the door and listened for any sounds. HQ must have done their jobs right this time. Whenever she had a job to do her parents and the twit down the hall had special sauce added to their portions of microwave lasagna. This ensured that they slept through out the night, and that they wouldn't wake up and wonder just where they're eldest daughter had gotten herself off to. 

{Cimorene}

She had to walk to Dega Street to get her car, as the late-night missions had made it more sensible to not keep it in the garage. This, unfortunately, involved going past Casa Lane.

Pausing in front of the house where her best friend had lived such a short time ago, she sighed and thought over her possible plan of action. No matter how hard she tried to deny it, Jane and Trent *had* been there for her in the past. Maybe blowing the two of them to kingdom come wasn't such a good idea.

She didn't really have the available time to think about that. There was a mission to attend to, and she'd have made up her mind on this front by the end of it. Right now, the important matter was meeting up with her consort and getting the night's official business out of the way.

(Thea_zara)

She had received call after call from Jane since she left, but ignored them all telling Helen she had a headache and didn't want to talk. She figured she would have been in for the third degree from her mother if this mission hadn't come up and saved her from it. All the more reason to make sure HQ got what they wanted. 

She pulled the key from her pocket and pressed her alarm button as she approached her car. It wasn't much to look at from the outside but it served its purpose and got her where she needed to go. No James Bond car for her... damn budget cuts. She slid behind the wheel and started to turn the key in the ignition when she felt cold steel against her neck. Pausing for only the briefest of seconds she continued to start the car and the gun was quickly removed from its position at her neck. She pulled out in silence, not speaking until she had turned onto a darkened stretch of road. "You're early McCarthy." Was all she said to the shadow in the backseat. 

"Ahh but my lovely Melody I could wait no more to be in your presence. Besides HQ contacted me and moved up our timetable. I had no choice but to move our meeting up as well. I would have done without the gun but you were being followed. I wanted you to know I was here and not broadcast it to the idiot who was following you."

She stared in the rearview mirror at him in shock. "I was followed? I didn't notice anyone. Did you recognize them? Was it someone from one of our new 'friends', or someone looking to put a crimp in the project tonight?" 

"To be honest Melody, I can't see even one of 'their' agents being that incompetent. He seemed to be trying hard to catch up to you. Perhaps he was simply an admirer, or rather another one." He gave her a rather salacious wink and his patented smarmy smile. She gave him an evil look and he slowly dropped the act, leaning back into the seat as he asked, "I really don't want to know just what your thinking about, do I Da- er I mean Melody."

She glared at him a moment longer and decided she would really make him sweat for the name slip, before her face smoothed out to its normal stoic expression. "Oh I was just thinking of the tutoring that I will be doing in school tomorrow. I plan on giving some Casanova wannabe a refresher course in 'Don't piss me off" and drive it home with my boot. I think it will be an enjoyable experience, don't you Up- oh I mean McCarthy." She smirked at him in the rearview mirror.

He shuddered a moment then became all business. "I called in a 'Grab and Jab' on him to HQ when I first noticed him following you down the street. They should have him already and in about an hour we will know every thing there is to know about him." 

"Put a call in to the boss and see if they got him, and what the initial findings are. You know, what I.D. he is using, how much of a fight did he put up, and anything else of interest they may have gotten on him." She ordered while navigating the darkened streets of Lawndale. 

He pulled a cell phone off his belt and started dialing. We suddenly hear a voice on the other end of the phone, "High Quality Pizzeria. Can I take your order?" "Yeah I need one with the 'works' and don't forget the extra 'secret' sauce." Daria rolled her eyes at the routine they had to follow for security reasons as he continued his 'order'. "Yeah I don't like the way your speaking to me... let me talk to your manager." We hear a series of beeps coming from the receiver and suddenly a voice is heard. "This is the boss. Who's this, and what the hell do you want with me?" "This is McCarthy reporting in and requesting status of the interrogation as per Ms. Powers' orders." 

"I would pay good money to not be in your shoes right about now McCarthy. The gentleman we just snatched and drugged, as per your request, is none other than a Mr. Trent Lane. As I recall from the files he is a brother to a Ms. Jane Lane, AKA Melody's best friend. I am willing to bet she is going to exact a lesson or two in the art of ass kicking for your little blunder. We are waiting for the drugs to take effect and then Mr. Lane will wake up on his porch thinking it was all some strange dream, if he remembers it at all."

Daria listened as 'McCarthy' filled her in on what was going on while the boss waited for any response, and a cynical part of his brain suspected, to see if Melody jumped the seat and killed him. The perv part of his brain kicked up at that moment 'then I can at least claim to have had her in the backseat'. She surprised both the boss and 'McCarthy' by staring at him a moment then issuing a new order. "Don't send him back to the Lane home just yet. Has he been shot with the sodium pentathol yet?" 'McCarthy' nodded an affirmative and she pulled a quick u-turn heading towards the safe house she knew they would be using for a job like this. 

He squeaked from the backseat, "But Melody, what about the mission?" She gave him a disdainful look and continued driving away from the mission as she spoke. "This is my cover those idiots are playing with, thanks to you. I need to make sure of just what he knows and what is going on. Then I will worry about the mission. Besides I set the meeting with our source for 10pm, and since I am the only one who knows just how to make contact we would have been waiting an hour and a half anyway, moved up mission or not." 

She looked at him in the mirror and wondered if he would believe it was only her cover she wanted to ask about. This was the only way she would ever get a truthful answer out of a Lane, to find out just when she lost her best friend. She turned a corner, pulled up in front of the safe house, and climbed quickly out of the car. Not waiting for 'McCarthy' she headed inside to the Lane waiting for her. 

{Lawndale Stalker}

Trent Lane became marginally more aware of his surroundings. The bright light in his eyes he'd been aware of from the start. He was lying on something that might resemble one of those psychiatrists' couches you saw on TV and nowhere else. He couldn't turn his head enough to see it because he seemed to be strapped to it. There were definitely straps on his wrists. He could move his arms some, but not enough to bring his hands together. He didn't really feel like moving, anyway.

Other than the light shining down into his eyes, the room was dark. There were vague shapes moving in the darkness, possibly two or more people. He didn't know whether he should try to talk to them or not, so he didn't. 

A shape moved and seemed to take a seat near his head. As it came nearer to him, more light fell on it, but what he saw did not tell him much. The shape was covered in a black garment or drapery or something. It had a head, but the head seemed to be wearing a somewhat snug hood, plus a lumpy something over the mouth. A strange voice called his name.

Trent tried to say 'yeah', but only an indistinct sound came out. The shape did not seem displeased. That was good, thought Trent. For some reason, he felt he should not displease the owner of the voice.

The strange voice said, "Trent, where were you going earlier?" Hearing it again, Trent thought it didn't sound so strange. The voice was being electronically disguised, he realized. But Trent had a musician's ear, and he was better than most at filtering out distortion. He thought he might recognize the voice if he heard it without disguise. But he should answer the question. "Needed to find, uhh..." he said, and stopped. 

"Who?" Said the voice.

Trent was reluctant to answer this in front of people he didn't know, and yet, he sort of wanted to please the voice. "...Daria." He said, softly.

The shape seemed to lean forward, just a bit. "Why did you need to find Daria, Trent?" The voice asked. It sounded like a nice voice. But... these questions were getting a bit personal. Trent wondered if the voice would mind if he asked a question. "Wh... who.. are..."

The voice said, "I'm a friend Trent. I can help you if you answer a few questions." It sounded kind. "Why did you need to find Daria, Trent?"

Trent trusted the voice. "Tell her... not Janey's fault. Not Janey's picture."

The shape seemed to sit up straighter. It seemed to raise a hand to the lumpy thing over where its mouth probably was. Trent couldn't tell for sure, because his eyes were kind of blurry. There was a small noise, like static. Then other shapes possibly moved farther away, or left. He heard a door close. Left. "Whose picture was it, Trent?" Asked the voice softly. 

This was a question Trent really didn't want to answer. He blinked rapidly. His head turned from side to side, as if in negation. "It's okay, Trent. I'm your friend. You can trust me. Who painted the picture?"

Trent's mouth worked. He didn't want to tell. But he needed to tell. That's why he'd gone after Daria. That was even why... "I did."

The figure sat up straighter again. It was very quiet. Trent hoped he hadn't offended the voice or the figure either. Then the voice asked, "Why did you paint the picture, Trent?"

Trent felt his throat start to tighten up, the way it had so many times before. He couldn't tell. But he needed to tell. But he mustn't tell, especially not Daria, not ever. But he had to tell Daria. He'd waited so long. Too long. But he couldn't tell Daria, he just couldn't. But this wasn't Daria. This was a friend. A friend who was very easy to talk to, somehow. Maybe he could tell him.

"Feelings... needed to tell Daria... feelings."

Another silence. Then, "What feelings, Trent?

"Why... do you want to know?"

"Trent, you were acting suspiciously. But if you have a good reason, I can get them to let you go. What did you need to tell Daria? What feelings, Trent?

So hard, so hard. Like pulling his own guts out. Yet not quite so hard as before. "I, I... think I..." His chest heaved convulsively, as if he were stifling sneezes. Or sobs.

"Come on, Trent, you can do it." Came the kind, helpful voice.

"I think I love her." Trent inhaled a huge breath, as if he'd just surfaced from a deep dive. There was another short silence, and then the voice came again.

"It's okay, Trent. It'll be all right. You just take a nap now, and I'll get you back home. Just relax. It's all right. When you wake up, you won't even remember this, but you'll know it's all right."

Trent felt a great load lift off his chest, and felt his throat relax more than it had in years. He vaguely felt that when he awoke, he'd have his old, mellow voice back, but the thought floated away as he sank into a deep, restful sleep.

{Lawndale Stalker}

Daria pulled the hood off as she came out the door. Needles was picking up a syringe loaded with sedative, but she placed a negating hand over his. "Take it along, but don't use it unless you have to. I don't think he'll wake up. Sleeping is the thing he does best. Turning to include the other two in the grab 'n jab team, she said, "Leave him on the sofa in the front room if you can, otherwise on the front porch. Bouncing a rock off that tractor thing in the back yard should get Jane out long enough, if she's not out looking for me, too."

She headed out the front door with Upchuck behind her. "What shall I tell HQ?" He asked.

"That he only wanted to tell me something."

"What?" His voice tone said several things, even though he tried to mask them.

"Just personal stuff. Get in the car. I'll be there in a second."

He started to get behind the wheel, then thought the better of it and slid into the back seat. Daria followed four seconds later, brushing tree bark off her forehead. Damn dopey slacker! Like she needed this, especially now.

(Nullset)

Daria pulled the car back into the streets of Lawndale, this time being a little less cautious. It was later, now, and this business with Trent's abduction and baring his sodium pentathol soaked soul meant she was running behind on tonight's meeting. Of course, that didn't mean she'd not use some evasion methods, but even still it took her only forty minutes to get down to the bay area. 

She pulled the car off the side of the road, away from the docks and the port authority, actually not far from where she and Jane had come ashore after the Princess Fairy fiasco.

Jane. Jane was still her friend. Her best friend, and hadn't really betrayed her after all. That was a relief. Knowing that stable part of her life was safe would make getting through tonight easier. If it wasn't tainted with the other knowledge Trent had revealed, life would be perfect. Or at least normal. But that would have to wait until tomorrow, if tomorrow ever came.

Off in the shallow water an Agency powerboat was anchored, only its total blackness revealing that something was there at all, as the water around it glittered fainting in the half-moonlight.

"Wait here for me," she told McCarthy. "I'll be back within the hour."

Getting out of the car, Daria waded into the water, not looking back. She knew that he'd still be there. Whether he'd be alive when she returned was another question all together.

{Lawndale Stalker}

A dark figure leaned over the side of the powerboat. Holding onto the back edge of the cabin with one hand, he held out his other hand do her. Daria reached out and gripped his wrist, as he gripped hers in return. With a smooth, seemingly effortless motion, he hoisted her over the side of the low-riding craft and onto the deck. The low rumble of the powerful engines increased slightly in pitch as the boat pulled away from shore. 

She followed the barely seen figure into the dark cabin. As he closed the door behind them, dim red lights came on, lighting the cabin sufficiently for her to see that there were four Agents present besides her, all male, all wearing Agency night camo, black utility belts, and black deck shoes. Turning back to her, he said, "Melody, I'm Croaker, this is Coupstick," he gestured at a figure seated on a bench by the aft bulkhead, "and our captain and first mate are Pegleg and Shorty, respectively." He indicated the other two figures forward, one at the wheel, the other, very large, bent over a bank of displays, prominent among which were radar and sonar screens. He occasionally looked up, presumably out the windshield, but Daria, from her position, could see nothing but blackness there.

The boat rocked as it turned then surged as the screws stopped and then began driving the boat forward once more. Daria took a seat on the portside bench and buckled in. Croaker sat between her and the aft bulkhead, but didn't buckle up, holding to a grab bar instead. Having reached some comfortable distance from shore, Pegleg shoved the throttles forward a notch. The boat surged forward again, shoving Daria against Croaker's shoulder. It didn't give very much at all.

Croaker spoke up. "There's been a slight change in plans. Samoya is injured, so HQ wants you to act as Agency liaison to one of the teams of Russians."

"But my Russian isn't that good!" Daria replied in surprise.

"You'll be with the team with their best English speaker. And you're not to let them know you speak Russian at all. Just keep your ears open for any indication that their plans don't precisely match our own."

"Oh, crap!" Her position had just gotten considerably more precarious, Daria realized. She would be the sole Agency Op with seven of Mother Russia's best and baddest, who might well want to do something naughty tonight. If they did, they'd quite likely do her first. 

"Just what I was thinking." Croaker said. "I don't see where we need Russians for this at all." 

"We don't. This is their payback for some favor they did us, don't ask me what. Apparently they want to see how the Chinese go about a high-tech anti-sigint operation inside the CONUS. And of course it's slathered all over with international, interagency cooperation BS" Daria hoped the interagency cooperation glee club wasn't writing a check her butt wouldn't be able to cash.

Croaker regarded her narrowly in the dim red light. "No offense, but you seem awfully young for an operation like this. And... small."

Daria looked up at him and smiled a small smirk. "Ordinarily, yes, but I'm local, and I have... special skills."

Pegleg chose that moment to open the powerboat up. As his hand slowly shoved the throttle levers forward, Daria was once more shoved against Croaker's shoulder. The song of the engines built toward a crescendo as the boat sped out to sea to rendezvous with the Russian submarine.

(Lawndale stalker)

Daria remembered McCarthy. She pulled out her Agency phone and punched the speed-dial number for Ops. No answer. 

From his seat on the starboard side, Coupstick called "that won't work." He tapped the wall behind his head. "Radar absorptive coating."

Daria put her phone away. "This is a stealth boat?" She asked. 

Shorty turned from his bank of displays. "Semi stealth. The speed of the hull wasn't compromised, nor the air drag coefficient. Do you need to use the radio?"

"I just wanted to remind Ops that McCarthy is waiting on shore for me. If I'll be going with a van full of Russkies, they should call him off or reassign him."

"I'll relay that for you." Shorty punched some buttons and began speaking into a radio handset.

Pegleg pushed a large button on the control console. Daria heard large solenoids actuate, and electric motors started to whine. After a few seconds, the boat was riding noticeably smoother, and the motors shut off. She looked inquiringly at Croaker. 

"He just deployed the hydrofoils." He explained. Pegleg began easing the throttles forward again. It seemed to Daria that the note of the engines was getting quite high for engines as large as these must be. 

"How fast does this thing go?" She asked.

"Pegleg says she'll do a skosh over 120 knots. I don't want to find out. We'll be doing 85 or 90 on the leg out, somewhat lower coming back in, because of the passengers."

"That's still faster than I want to go on the open ocean. I've seen those offshore powerboat races. Isn't 85 about the speed where they start spontaneously flipping over and disintegrating?"

"You're sure fun to take on a boat ride. This boat is bigger and more stable than those racing powerboats are, and hydrofoils aren't nearly as prone to flipping. And the sea is almost dead calm tonight, so we'll be fine."

Daria returned his encouraging smile as best she could, and tried to relax in the dim red glow that was so suggestive of the anteroom to Hell. After several minutes of listening to the engines revving ever higher, she turned back to Croaker. "How far out is this sub?"

"It's out at the edge of the drop-off, which is twenty-seven miles here. Ivan doesn't like to bring his boomers into other peoples' shallow water."

Daria stared at him wide-eyed. "Did you say... 'boomer'? As in 'ballistic missile submarine'?

"That's right. The Novosibirsk is one of their stretch boomers. We didn't know about them until a couple of years ago. They added an extra hull section onto a few of their big boys and fitted it out to carry men and/or equipment. All our subs with cargo capability are much smaller and none carry nukes."

"I should hope not! Why the hell would they want to use one of their continental siege engines for a delivery truck?"

"An excellent question, and I have no idea." 

Pegleg said something to Shorty, who turned partway around and said, "We're approaching the Novosibirsk. Brace for deceleration."

"Brace for deceleration?" Daria asked Croaker. "Does this thing have retrorockets?"

He grinned. "No, but when Pegleg cuts the throttles and retracts the hydrofoils, you'd be surprised how fast this tub loses speed."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Daria stood on the deck and marveled. Croaker had been right, she'd been surprised at the g's of deceleration the boat had pulled. But she was amazed at the sight of the Novosibirsk. It was immense. It looked like it must be longer than the Empire State building was tall. Naah, that couldn't be. She'd have to find some specs on this monster, just to satisfy her curiosity. And its strangely rough surface, added to its size, made it seem more like some surreal rocky island than a manmade vessel.

The first rubber dinghy full of Russian operatives was coming alongside the boat, while more men were holding ropes and walking down the curved side of the Novosibirsk into a second one. All this activity was taking place in near silence, here out of sight of any land on the open ocean. Daria turned her head to take it all in once more. Somehow she knew she'd never forget it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Daria stood facing the Russians in the crowded cabin of the Agency powerboat. A belt around her waist secured her to the instrument panel, like those that Pegleg and Shorty wore. Captain Zvodoryev, serving as translator, was similarly belted. Croaker and Coupstick, not belted, clutched grabhandles at either end of the panel. What they could do if the Russians decided to seize the ship, she didn't know, but they were prepared to give it their best shot. The other thirteen Russians were seated on the benches and the floor, apparently listening intently to Daria.

Daria continued: "At ten twenty-two Zulu, all teams will activate their directional locators, which are already tuned to the frequency of the jammer. At ten twenty three seventeen Zulu, the unfriendlies must activate their satellite transmission jammer in order to block the surveillance satellite's data stream as it passes over the Qaidam Basin area south of Lop Nor. They must leave the jammer on for forty-eight seconds in order to insure that we get no visual data from the target area. This will be more than enough time for the directional locators to get a vector on the origin of the jamming signal. Not all teams will get a vector, because the signal is very tightly beamed at the relay satellite. We expect only the four or five closest teams to pick it up, but two vectors are all we need. The vectors will be relayed to Operations, which will calculate the location of the jammer and give directions for the teams to close in and apprehend the unfriendlies."

Daria paused at the end of every sentence or major phrase while Captain Zvodoryev translated into Russian, but the men's' eyes never left her. This was getting creepy. And the air in the overcrowded cabin was becoming thick with testosterone fumes and pheromones. She had never in her young life received this much or this intense masculine attention. How damn long had these guys been at sea? Didn't they have any dirty magazines aboard the Novosibirsk? Daria fought the urge to turn around and firewall the throttles, as well as the other urges that she assumed must be pheromone-induced. Would they never reach shore?

(Thea_zara)

He sat in the darkness, the half full moon the only light, watching the tracker's screen. She was offshore and heading inland fast... too fast. Damn, he was going to have to deal with her. She wasn't just some random field agent. They knew each other; there were connections that could be linked back to him. If something unseemly happened to her even a government cover up might not keep him from coming under suspicion, and he definitely didn't need that, especially now. He had tried to keep her involvement in this job to a minimum, he would have kept her out of it altogether if Trent hadn't showed up. He had arranged her little accident this afternoon and had planned on knocking out both her and Jane, but with Trent awake, for once, his plan wouldn't have worked. He instead planted a small tracking device on her via her glasses. He would have planted a bug as well, but that would have been found by any of the many electronic searches she could be submitted to during tonight's festivities. The tracker he had used left no electronic signals that could be traced. 

Why the hell did the Russians need involved in this anyway? It made no sense, and it made his job much harder. He climbed out of the car slowly, staring off across the water. If he was going to intercept the information tonight he would need some help. Did he dare call in backup? There were three operatives he could contact and put into service. 

Blue was a specialist in tactics and weapons so she had the decided advantage in those areas, but damnit every time he saw her without her pet idiot in tow she tried to get all cuddly. He had used her services when he was first assigned to follow Melody. She had taken him incognito to the variety of grunge clubs that Daria and Jane frequented. After he made it known that he was going to maintain a professional demeanor, and not make out in a darkened corner, she had taken off. He later found out she had been identified by Daria, but played the entire event off with her bubble brain act. 

Regardless of her roaming hands he may have to call in Blue and hope she can be counted on in a pinch to act professional, because quite frankly the idea of working with either of the other two operatives made him want to run for the hills. He had been in the presence of both Marionette and Kawii at various times, but never in any 'company' projects with them. Kawii was the youngest operative ever and supposedly a computer specialist as well as having a photo perfect memory when it came to remembering another operative or a subject, right down to the exact shade their socks were. Unfortunately she was both tied to Melody and as annoying as nails on a chalkboard each time he had to spend any amount of time with her while he was undercover. He had heard good things on her though. She had managed to root out the perp that had been hacking into everything in sight at the Le Grand Hotel, as well as uncover not one, but two sweatshop rings, simply by analyzing the final product of clothing from the various dealers. Too bad she was Melody's sister. 

Marionette worked closely with Kawii over the year or so since Kawii had started working for us. She was a flawless actress pulling off that damn innocent and doormat act successfully for years. Her cover as a highschooler was a farce. Her file showed she was 22 and a graduate of both agency training and a very well known school of drama. She was also a hand to hand specialist. When he first realized she was 'one of the team' he had his doubts. He had seen that little witch Griffin intimidate her into submission hundreds of times, and for awhile wondered if the agency was crazy for using her. Then she had proven herself with that stunt she had pulled with McCarthy. He had no clue she was an operative and when she had cozied up to him supposedly to find out about his magic tricks it had been easy as pie to steal the disk McCarthy had just stolen from Ms. Li. He had to laugh at just how much trouble the idiot's Don Juan had gotten into for that little screw-up.

He looked at the tracking devise in his hand again. She had to be near shore again. He made is way closer to the landing site she seemed to be heading for, and waited. Damnit, the way this night was going he might need all three of the agents. He pulled out his phone and started dialing. After a moment we hear, "Sloan residence." "Elsie it's me, Tom. I need a call put out. I need three agents: Blue, Marionette, and Kawii." "But Tom isn't Kawii Melody's sis-" "I know who she is, just get them up and running and send them all my co-ordinance."

*Note The code name Blue is a nod to CN's True Blue and the code name Kawii is a nod to CB's TLAS. 

(Nullset)

Pegleg pulled the Agency craft into a private marina, full of the yachts of Lawndale's rich and famous. Or something like that. He flipped a few switches, current flowed through the hull, a quick chemical reaction took place, and the matt black powerboat suddenly was electric blue. 

From his position at the end of the dock, Tom smirked at the transformation. "Hiding in plain sight, a typical Agency trick," he thought. "With such delicious irony, no wonder Daria works for these people."

The two strike teams debarked, lead by Croaker and Daria, respectively. Daria's team of seven Russians included Captain Zvodoryev, as she'd been promised. Cinching down their equipment, they began to quietly make they're way up the rows of yachts, toward the parking lot where their ground transport was waiting. 

__

As they turned the corner onto the main walkway of the marina, Daria started at the sight of a man dressed in black silk and leather, and wearing a Zorro style bandana mask arrogantly standing in plain view. She waved her group to stop, and kept herself from making the quick grab for her pistol. Gunfire right now would be unsatisfactory. Besides, she knew this man well, and pain though he may be, he could be an asset right now, since baby-sitting seven Russians was not how she'd planned on spending this evening.

Turning to her men she said "no weapons no guns. We've got him seriously out numbered, so we do this hand to hand. We don't even need to kill him; he's just a local nuisance."

"Come, come, Ms. Powers," Tom said as he strode forward, "surely I'm more than that?" Elegantly he drew a fine rapier from its scabbard on his left side. 

"Powers, who is this guy?" Croaker demanded.

"_Just someone who needs to be taken down a notch or two."_

Tom took the opportunity to thumb one of the several stubs on the grip. He made sure to not to use the neurotoxin, this time. Priming his blade with a sedative typically used on grizzly bears would more than do the trick.

Captain Zvodoryev spoke up, "Ms. Powers, if you would kindly let us show you our appreciation for involving us in this mission? My men will have much pent up aggression and would gladly deal with this miscreant for you."

Images of Joey, Jeffy, and Jamie cross-cloned with Shakespeare flitted through her head. But this was basically what she'd had in mind.

"As you like, but be quick, please."

(Thea_zara) 

*Ring*

Tom jerked out of his little fantasy and immediately got back on the clock. He reached for his phone and checked the ID quickly before answering with "What's the status of the agents I requested, Elsie?" "Both Blue and Marionette are en route. Kawii was MIA." "What the hell do you mean she was MIA? I 'need' her here tonight and on my team. Find her Elsie, NOW!" 

"Tom, she isn't answering her company cell and a thermal sat. scan of the house shows only two warm bodies. So she's dead and cold or she is out of the house and a complete wild card." 

[Lawndale Stalker]

Daria stood by the guardrail of the small Bay Overlook parking lot, breathing deeply of the night sea breeze as the Russian operatives filed past. The hot gooshy tingly feelings were fading and her mind was sharp again, but they'd reached shore none too soon, for her money. Daria hoped she'd never have to go through that again. Well, no, she didn't, but not on duty. Well, except for special assignments, maybe. She shook her head again and sucked in another lungful of cool salty air.

The sound of the powerboat's engines was fading, nearly drowned out by the soft gurgles of waves lapping the shore. Dahlgren, the other Agency liaison, came over to where she and Captain Zvorodnyev stood watching the last of the men step over the guardrail. His Agency handle was Rasputin, but he wouldn't be using it tonight, just as Daria was using Wendy around the Russians instead of Melody. That reminded Daria of the presence of McCarthy. He'd driven the second van here in lieu of Samoya, and she was worried he'd blurt out the wrong name before they could drop him off. She introduced Dahlgren to the Russians and he shook hands with Zvodoryev. 

Dahlgren briefly recapped the briefing in Russian, then added, "All indications are that the Chinese have no idea we're after their jammer tonight, but there might be an interested fourth party. We don't know who, but we all need to stay alert, especially just before, during, and just after the raid on the jammer site. Okay, you who're with me, board the maroon van. We're going to the mall."

There were a couple of low-volume wisecracks as half the Russians headed toward the civilian-looking maroon custom van. Under cover of this, Daria grabbed Upchuck's arm, squeezing it for emphasis as she muttered, "I'm Wendy." She immediately followed that with "After we drop you, watch for anyone following." in a more normal tone. Captain Zvodoryev caught this, and Daria repeated it for him, effectively covering her previous warning to Upchuck.

As Daria pulled out of the parking lot headed for Cedars of Lawndale, she had the feeling that she was being watched. A quick glance over her shoulder told her that everyone else in the van was ogling her, including Upchuck, but she wasn't sure that explained the feeling. She rolled down her window in hopes of averting the buildup of more pheromones

(Thea_zara)

Tom gritted his teeth as he watched the young Russians ogling 'Melody'. She may be his case, but damnit, she was his girlfriend too. So what if it was a sham of a relationship? She didn't know that, and parading around in front of those Russians in her tight cloths was NOT the sort of thing a girl with a boyfriend should do. Tom shook his head amazed at just how jealous he was getting over someone he would have to kill if orders called for it. Damnit, what the hell was wrong with him she wasn't even dressed much different from him? She had on agency standard black body armor with her customary boots. Her lovely dark red hair pulled back from her face in a simple braid. 

"God I need to get a grip!" He nearly jumped a foot when a low throaty voice replied. "I'd give you something to grip, but we 'are' on duty tonight." He turned to the darkened alley and watched as Blue stepped out of it smirking at his shock. "What did you expect me to do? come out with my pom- poms shaking and squeaking out a cheer?" 

Though he couldn't tell the difference in this light he knew Blue was wearing free moving body armor in a shade of darkest midnight blue. It was one of her many quirks. "What are our orders and our status?" "I have been watching a group of Russians who have just came ashore, and met with American collaborators. They have split into two groups. The agency has been made aware of the situation. We could split up and try to follow both, but we don't have the manpower needed for surveillance. I do, however, have a tracker on one of the collaborators in the green van. We will be following it. The agency will be sending more teams to try and find the other group before it's too late." 

Blue took a look through the binoculars and watched the men loading into the dark green van. "There looks to be a female with them. I can't make her features out in with these damn binoculars, but her movements look familiar." She looked like she was going to say more when the back door of the car opened and quickly shut. 'Marionette' slipped into the back seat. "My presence, as per your request, Rust. So tell me, what the hell am I doing here?"

Tom turned to answer, but stopped when he noticed the vans begin to move out. He waited till the taillights were gone from sight and moved to follow his 'girlfriend'.

(Note the code name Rust for Tom is another homage to CB)

{Lawndale Stalker}

As she drove the awkward-feeling van through the dark, deserted streets of Lawndale, Daria couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was wrong. She checked her rearview mirror yet again. There was one car behind her, three or four blocks back. According to the dashboard clock, they were okay on time. She glanced at her watch, and it agreed with the van's clock. Another glance in the mirror showed the car still back there- no, it was turning into a Slurpy Mart. 

Two blocks further, Daria pulled into a strip mall parking lot. Her scruffy Agency car was there, where McCarthy had left it to pick up this van. As he got out, she said "Remember- call me if you see any cars that might be following us.", adding a hard look that she hoped would remind him of the other thing he needed to remember.

"Will do, Wendy." He smiled. "Good luck and be careful."

Giving him a tiny smile, Daria pulled back onto the boulevard. Three blocks later, her Agency phone vibrated. Activating it, she said "Wendy."

"There's a car behind you." Came Upchuck's voice. "Off-white Jaguar saloon, somewhat rusty. Tom Sloane driving, Brittany Taylor riding shotgun, another female in back, couldn't ID her."

Daria glanced at the headlights in the rearview mirror, temporarily at a loss for even a thought, much less words. "Thanks, Sweetums" she replied, irked at his choice of an alternate handle. "Keep watching for another minute, then I'll release you." She put the phone back in her shirt pocket. 

From the front passenger seat, Captain Zvodoryev asked " Is dere a prroblem?"

Daria realized she'd let her poker face slip a bit. She'd have to tell him something or he'd get suspicious, which implied hostile. "Probably nothing. It's just that I know the people in that car behind us. The passenger is the head cheerleader at my school."

Knowing there had to be more, he asked "and the drriver?"

Not needing to fake a suitable expression, she half-mumbled "He's my boyfriend."

His head bobbed back a bit at this unexpected answer. He thought a second, then looked at her with a slight sympathetic smile. "Oh, uhh, bummerr. You want we should keel dem?"

Deciding to take that as Russian humor, she gave him a tiny forced-looking smile in return.. "No, thanks. I'd rather do it myself when I have more time."

In the mirror Daria saw the car turn off again. That was assuming it was the same car she'd seen earlier. Since she'd only seen headlights in the mirror, she couldn't really know. They'd only been behind her for sure for four blocks. That wasn't really enough to be suspicious. They could've been going to... where? There was nothing in that direction on that street but a few run-down supply stores and small workshops and a scrap yard, all closed now. 

They were nearing Cedars. The four-deck parking structure was visible now. A person who had some idea of their mission could have figured out where they were headed at about that point and turned off in an attempt to avoid suspicion.

But Tom? A covert operative? For the enemy? Come on. He was smart enough and he'd proven he had guts by hanging in with her as long as he had, but he just wasn't the type. 

Neither are you, said that annoying little voice inside her head.

Well, Tom was theoretically possible, but Brittany? Bubbleheaded, bouncing Brittany? She of the humongous hooters? Impossible. Although... Brittany had surprised Daria on a few occasions with unexpected signs of brain activity. Hmm. And who was the female in the back seat? This was a peg that didn't fit into any hole she could see.

If they weren't following the van, and almost certainly they weren't, then what were they doing on that dead-end, deserted street in the wee smalls? Just cruising? Looking for a missing hubcap? There were no bars, clubs, pizzerias, or whatnot back there. But it would be a good place to park and make a hero sandwich.

Well, here was Cedars of Lawndale Medical Center. She shuddered involuntarily as she steered the lumbering van onto the ramp. She had more than one bad memory from various parts of this complex. But most people in the Lawndale area could probably say the same. Negotiating the ramp in the big overloaded van drove out all other thoughts for the moment, and then they were at the top. Locating space A seventeen, she parked the van and got out.

The Russians piled out too, and were directed to points along the railing or the ramp from which to watch for... stuff. Daria opened the rear doors and pulled out the parabolic dish of the locator. Captain Zvodoryev picked up the receiver box and placed it on the van roof at her request, then put the dish and its motorized mount on top. Daria, standing with one foot on the driver's seat and the other on the door's armrest, connected the two with a flex waveguide and a control cable. She pulled out her phone, hit the speed dial number for Ops, and said "Team R-2 in position."

(Thea_zara) 

Back to the Lane house...

Trent was having one of the most amazing nights and he wasn't even awake... typical Trent. Jane wanted to wake him up and find out what had happened. He had spent most of the early evening gearing himself up to talk to Daria, but when she wouldn't get on the phone for either of them he had decided to try the direct approach. Jane settled for moving him from the porch to the living room couch. "Trent front and center, forward march, about face, and fall out soldier." Trent rolled over and snuggled up to her boot. "Damn I guess Daria wore you out." She gave him a naughty little wink then thought about what she had just said, "Nah. All right Trent time for serious measures." She leaned in and whispered in his ear. "Trent the cops are here and they're looking for you." Trent was immediately kicked into high gear. "I swear officer I didn't take the carrot, it wanted to come with me." He looked around hazily a moment taking in his surroundings and the definite lack of a police presence. "Damnit Janey, don't scare me like that." He dropped back down and was proceeding to go back to sleep when Jane decided enough was enough. "Trent you cannot sleep on the front porch wake the hell up and lets at least get you to the couch, and what the heck did you do to your voice?" Trent was now speaking in a mellow and very relaxed voice... one she hadn't heard in years. 

Trent thought about it hazily a moment then shrugged. "Guess I finally relaxed." Jane looked at him amazed "That's it, that's all your going to tell me after all the crap today, after nearly costing me my best friend? Damnit Trent did you talk to her or not, and is she still after my blood or did you tell her I was innocent of all charges?" Trent blinked a minute or two at the onslaught from his sister. "I didn't get to talk to her. I just know everything is gonna be all right, that's all." Jane stared at him, madder than she had ever been with him in her life. "GAH-DAMMIT! TRENT YOU WILL WAKE YOUR SORRY ASS UP AND GO FIND HER NOW!!! This is my one and only friend your stringing along here. Go tell her you painted the damn pictures and how you feel and if you can be bothered let her know her best friend didn't betray her horribly and laugh at her behind her back for god knows how long." With this she pulled a stunned and slightly cowed Trent to his feet. She pulled him to the door and pushed him out it. "So help me Trent, if I catch you somewhere asleep before you talk to Daria I will NOT be responsible for my actions, and if you even think about the front porch as a good spot to wait for her I will be forced to take out the garden hose. Now go find her." 

Trent looked around to see if the neighbors had been watching Janey's little rant then turned towards Daria's house. He was just stepping in that direction when he spotted a familiar figure walking past his house. It was Daria's sister and she was muttering to herself as she walked quickly down the street. He couldn't place why she looked 'off' to him. Had Jane looked out her window she would have been shocked to see Quinn wearing a black turtleneck, pants, and a small but trendy pair of black hiking boots. Trent however, just knew she looked different somehow. He had the strangest sense of Deja Vu and turned and followed Quinn silently down the street.

{Lawndale Stalker}

Stacy took a cell phone from her purse, flipped it open, and hit a sequence of three buttons. The display showed a single dot running across the screen. She swept the phone around her in a full circle, and a tiny green LED lit up among the number keys. "All right, we can talk." She said. 

Brittany asked, "Why are we here? I came here with Sam Sta-er, I mean, Kevvy one night. There's nothing interesting here, and it's all closed anyway." She twirled a ponytail nervously.

Tom sighed. "We don't want the people in the van to know we're following them. I have a pretty good idea where they're going, so we'll give them a few minutes to settle down, then approach."

"So in the meantime, how about some briefing?" Stacy's voice held a trace of irritation. "Who are they, what are they doing, and what are we going to do? And where's Quinn? "

Tom would have sighed again, but remembered he'd just done it. "As to that last, I was hoping one of you two had some idea."

_(__*

Daria turned from gazing down the length of First Avenue toward the somnolent business district, to look first East, then West down Sequoia Boulevard. All seemed quiet. Glancing at her watch, she turned from the parapet and headed back toward the van. Seeing this, Captain Zvodoryev glanced at his watch in turn, then hastened his round of the rooftop sentries.

Reaching the van, Daria opened the driver's door and took up her position with one foot on the armrest and the other on the driver's seat. At nearly 1022 Zulu, she dialed a number on her Agency phone, flipped the locator's power switch to on, and laid the phone on the van roof next to the little microphone grille on its side. The two devices exchanges some digital tones, and, at 1022 Zulu, the dish began to rotate. Captain Zvodoryev, now standing nearby, signaled silently to his men and they all began heading back to the van.

Turning to Zvodoryev, Daria said, "Would you make sure the back doors are open, and then tell your men not to touch the van until we have a vector reading?"

Seeing what she had in mind, the captain spoke to his men briefly. Two of them came to stand near Daria, and the rest went around to the right side of the van, by the passenger doors, where they stood at ease. They all began watching the seconds tick away to 1023:17 Zulu.

Out in space, on the far side of the planet, a satellite bearing a remarkable resemblance to the Hubble Space telescope but with its optics directed downward, passed between the Siberian cities of Omsk and Novosibirsk, its orbit taking it southeastward toward Sinkiang province. 

(Thea_zara)

Trent followed Daria's sister through the darkened streets of Lawndale, and he couldn't help but feel a very strong sense of having done something like this recently. He couldn't quite place when. In fact he didn't seem to be able to place what had happened earlier this evening either. Why did he feel so calm and relaxed, and where the hell had he gone?

She turned toward Cranberry Commons and when he reached the corner she had turned he was a little shocked to realize she was gone. He moved along the street and looked along it to see where she could have gone. He knew Daria wasn't the best of friends with her sister, but he also knew she would be very upset if something happened to her. After how he had upset her today he would give about anything to never see her hurt again and he wanted to be sure her sister was ok. 

He looked around and saw nothing and nowhere she could have gone. He leaned back against a tree trunk thinking about where she could have possibly gone when suddenly something clicked at his head. 

"This is locked and loaded and I assure you I know how to use it." The harshness in Quinn's usually perky voice shocked him. 

(Thea_zara)

Trent held as still as he possibly could. His mind struggled to grasp the concept of Daria's fluff brained little sister holding a gun to his head. Why she had one was a good question, but totally irrelevant to him at the moment. Had he scared her so badly that she felt she needed to pull it on him. He had only been following her to ask about Daria. Then again it was late. He could have smacked himself. She thought he was some sort of mugger or worse. 

All of this ran through Trent's less than clear mind in a matter of seconds. Then he remembered she had demanded an answer from him. "It's me Trent. I wanted to talk to you about Daria." At this Quinn moved around to get a better look at him. Suddenly the cool steel was taken from his head. He turned to look at her and the first thing he noticed was how calm she was considering she had been scared enough to pull a gun on him. The second was that there wasn't a gun in sight. 

'Damnit', Quinn thought to herself, 'Why tonight, of all nights, did Trent have to follow her, and why hadn't she gone for a better look before pulling her gun. This was going to take every bit of acting skills she had, and a fair bit of luck on her part. She really hoped that Trent was as oblivious as he seemed.' She slid her gun into its small and hidden holster along one side as she reached into her pocket and thanked her lucky stars for the fashion club's adherence to its by-laws on ones make-up essentials, as well as the Agency's gadget department. She had a tube of mascara in her pocked that was hollow and contained her small assortment of lock picking tools. Trent didn't need to know that, however, and it would serve another purpose.

Trent looked at her once more still stunned at what had happened but he had to ask. "Where'd your gun go?" 

Quinn let out a nervous giggle and batted her eyes as she pulled the mascara out and showed it to Trent. "I don't carry a gun. You were following me and I didn't know what to do so I used my mascara and tried to scare you off." She gave him a nervous giggle and prayed that he believed her. 

[Lawndale Stalker]

Daria's watch read 1023:17. She looked up at the time readout on the locator. It read 1023:18. The dish continued to rotate. 

Well, she had no reason to feel disappointed. As she'd told her den of ugly Cub Scouts herself, only the nearest four or five of the twenty-six teams with locators were expected to pick up the extremely faint leakage from the jammer's dish. But she was disappointed anyway.

Then the locator beeped. Daria's head jerked up. The little dish made another circuit. There came another beep. Daria peered intently into the night in the direction the dish had been pointing when the last beep had come, then looked down at the azimuth readout. It was dark. 

A third beep came. The dish halted, then slowly reversed direction, then stopped. This time there came a sound like pink noise or high speed data, it was hard to tell, coming from the locator's small speaker. The number 87.1 appeared in the azimuth readout. Three hairs north of due east. Daria peered through the small peep sight built into the locator's dish. She saw a four-story brick and glass building with a distinctive cylindrical shape.

It was the Lawndale High library building.

The locator began outputting modem tones, and received a brief burst back from Daria's phone, then both devices fell silent. The letters f i n appeared in the locator's readout. Daria switched it off and disconnected the dish from the electronics cabinet. Captain Zvodoryev spoke a few words in Russian. Daria understood them to mean "Take this and put it in back." The two men stepped forward, one of them taking the parabolic antenna from Daria, the other receiving the box from Zvodoryev, and headed for the open doors at the back of the van. Another couple of words from Zvodoryev, and the rest of the men began climbing into the van. 

A faint drumming sound came from the van roof. Realizing that she'd left her Agency phone set on 'vibrate', Daria picked it up, touched a button, and said, "Wendy."

"This is Ops. Please confirm azimuth."

"Eighty-seven point one degrees. Looks like the Lawndale High library to me."

"The plot's coming up now and... it is indeed the library building. Take Pyotr Pan and the lost boys on in, Wendy. But don't you be the first to fly in the window."

"Roger that, Ops." Wincing, Daria closed and pocketed her phone. That was lame. Sliding into the driver's seat, she started the van and headed for the ramp. "It's the high school library, probably the roof. Entry should be no problem. I've picked that lock before." She concentrated on getting her turn angle just right as the ungainly van started down the spiral ramp.

"Not nyecessarry." Daria managed a quick sideways glance, to see Zvodoryev grinning at her. "We have man on inside."

The van's outside wheels began to ride up on the ramp's curb, which was carved with rumble grooves. Daria yanked it back to the center of the ramp, as best she could determine it. What the hell? Facts were sinking in and hooking up. The jamming signal, probably Chicom in origin, was coming from school. HER school. And Russian intelligence had an inside man at HER school. How unobservant, how clueless, how *stupid* did that make her? If she hadn't been driving, she would have hung her head in shame.

(Thea_zara)

Tom watched the blip on the tracking screen as it held position in what he thought was the area of the medical center. He took a moment while waiting for the blip to move to re-evaluate his team for the evening. 'Marionette' leaned on the hood of the car, her relaxed pose very much at odds with the way she was obsessively working her hands with the slender stiletto. Open, twirl, close. Open, twirl, close. If Tom didn't value his life he would have said something about how annoying, and frankly unnerving, that was. He instead watched 'Blue' She would stare off into the darkness holding completely still, then every few moments she would reach up and twirl her hair. After roughly a minute of this she would seem to realize what she had done and dropped her hand back to her side. Tom almost grinned at this, apparently the hair twirling, which she had started as an affectation of her role, was becoming a compulsive trait. At least the only trait he faked was avoiding money... no chance of that sticking. 

Suddenly the blip on the screen began moving. He moved towards the car, the others following without a word passing between them. He put in another call to Elsie as he calculated what was in the area they seemed to be heading. "Have you managed to locate Kawii yet?" "I managed to get a ping back from the agency tracking unit you slipped in her 'toy' bag. It places her not far from Cranberry Commons. Her agency vehicle is in a lot there. I did a Sat. scan of the area she showed up in, and located her walking in that direction. Thermal shows she has one person following her. I can't get a firm ID on who it is, the cams we have in that area are offline tonight, something about HQ doing some tracking and not wanting any additional frequency's in use, but I am guessing at that short of a distance behind her, she has to know someone is behind her. If she doesn't then she is a complete incompetent." 

Tom thought about that for a moment and then spoke rapidly, "See if you can get at least one came up in that area, confirm 'Kawii's' ID and see if you can confirm her tail. Cross ref with a file pic of a Trent Lane. I intercepted an HQ order earlier tonight that he was to be released. apparently he followed Melody and had been picked up as a tail. The buzz was she stepped in and ordered a return on him, claiming he had only wanted to relay a message. Perhaps that wasn't the reason. If that is who is following 'Kawii' she may well be in extreme danger. I know Trent Lane and I highly doubt he is any kind of threat, but better safe then sorry and following yet another agent this evening has to be more than a coincidence. Order a pickup on them both. Keep her id safe, but make a pick-up on the two of them, confirm her tails ID, and get her enroute to rendezvous with my team. It looks like we are heading toward Lawndale High. 'Rust' out."

(Thea_zara)

Trent wasn't buying the load of crap Quinn was shoveling, but he figured it would be better all the way around if he acted like he believed her. "So what are you doing out this late?" Quinn thought about how he would react to the truth and decided to go with the stock answer, "I have a date, and I snuck out." 

Trent nodded once and then came to a decision. "If your going to be out this late at least let me walk you to where your going or come on back to the house and I'll give you a lift. I owe your parents for taking me n Janey in and all. Making sure you don't meet up with anyone dangerous is the least I can do." Quinn fought the urge to roll her eyes at that one. 

"I am OK out here Trent. Its not like I'm helpless or anything, I have lots of talents." Trent chose to play that one cool and just gave her a slightly disbelieving look. This achieved nothing aside from angering the young agent. Her cute nose crinkled ever so slightly as she narrowed her eyes and glared at Trent. "Like what?" She looked, for a moment, like she was mad enough to pull the hidden gun back out on him then she smirked and tossed off a smart ass answer to his insulting question. "Like my keen fashion sense." Trent pondered that for a full minute while Quinn flounced away.

(Thea_zara)

Quinn was beyond annoyed. Trent continued to follow after her, and unless she wanted to totally blow her cover, she couldn't do much about it. She had left her 'company' cell at the house so they couldn't track her, but that also meant she couldn't call in a team to help her lose Trent. Damnit, why the hell did he decide to play big brother. Suddenly she noticed the van parked in the next alley. The motor was running and there was no one inside, but more to the point it was your basic gray minivan... in other words as average as they come with no discernable markings whatsoever. It was just the thing for a scoop team to use. 

While outwardly Quinn was completely unchanged, she was seething inside. Someone was going to try a grab on her and she just knew Trent would try to intervene on her behalf. As sweet as that was from a grungy slacker who barely knew her, it would most likely get the two of them hurt or even killed. She slowed her gait almost imperceptively allowing Trent to close in on her. Seeing just how far back he was she bent over and retied her shoes, while doing that she slipped a neat little gadget out of the rubber of her shoes. It would knock out a normal man, and she figured she could at least take out one of them out of the equation. 

As Trent caught up with her, she heard a movement from behind and another from the right. "Whatever you do Trent, keep your mouth shut and stay close." she urgently whispered to him and turned to face the onslaught. 


End file.
